


turpitudinem et odium sui

by proletaricat



Series: We're Going to Hell [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Priests, Anal Sex, Angst, Homosexuality, M/M, Oral Sex, Priest Castiel, Twue Wuv, copious sinning, shame and guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:37:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5990463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proletaricat/pseuds/proletaricat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and Dean's relationship deepens. Castiel is ashamed, he is a *priest*, he's turning his back on God and the Church and he hates himself for it. But he can't resist Dean; he can't deny Dean anything. Dean takes advantage of this, but deep down, Castiel doesn't mind. Shame and self-loathing is not enough to keep the priest away. Dean is like the light and Castiel is a helpless moth, caught up in his brightness and warmth. He wishes it was real. He wishes it was possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. odium sui

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read alone, but if you read the first parts of this series, it will make more sense. Not proof-read because I am daring and fearless, so point out awkward wording and typos/spelling mistakes/mistakes in general (especially tense mistakes; I always start out present-tense and occasionally fall back into past-tense and it's annoying af).

Castiel wakes to warm arms around him, sheets tangled up around his middle, between his bed partner’s legs, and he is confused for a moment—his heartbeat doubles before he remembers last night. The shame and guilt settles over him and he closes his eyes, pressing his face into Dean’s neck. He wants to hide in the man’s arms for just a little longer, pretending he’s in some alternate universe where he hasn’t married himself to Jesus and the Church. In a way it kind of feels like cheating—there’s the thrill, the heat, the forbidden aspect that calls to him, but then the sick fear chilling his blood. What if somebody finds out? He’s worked himself up into somewhat of a panic, not sure how to proceed. Should he leave?

The arms around him tighten suddenly, and Dean presses a kiss to the top of his head. “G’morncas,” is grumbled into his hair and then Dean pulls back, rolling onto his back and stretches. Castiel can’t help to follow the beautiful bow of his body, muscles shifting under skin. He is breathless for a moment.

“You are a work of art,” the priest whispers, reaching out tentatively and trailing fingertips down Dean’s chest and stomach. The man squirms, batting at Castiel’s hand.

“Tickles,” he groans, rolling back toward the man and on top of him. He grabs the priest’s hands, pinning them to the bed. He doesn’t mean anything sexual by it, he simply wants to protect himself from being tickled. It doesn’t matter, though. Castiel feels arousal stir in him and he closes his eyes, breath hitching as he revels in the firm body of a man, of such a glorious and beautiful representation of God’s wonder. Dean lifts himself on his arms a fraction, smirking down at the priest. “Mmm, you like that, Father?” he purrs, rolling his hips, and Castiel can feel the hot line of Dean’s erection pressing against his hip. The light friction of the other man’s body rolling against him brings a whimper to his lips. It escapes, though Castiel attempts to stop it leaving his mouth. “ _Fuck_ ,” Dean hisses, tightening his grip on the priest’s hands. “You have no idea how goddamn _hot_ you are, Cas,” he groans.

“Don’t blaspheme,” he grumbles, as if somehow using God’s name in vain is any worse than breaking his vows and taking part in the sin of homosexuality.

“Yes, Father,” Dean says with a grin. “I suppose I’ll see you to confess my sins this Sunday, hmm?” Castiel nods, eyes closed. He can’t look at Dean’s face or he’ll fall into temptation again. Just breathing him in, that unmistakable smell of _man_ , of _Dean_ , and of Dean’s arousal, is enough to make his head spin. “Ahh, and Father…” Another roll of hips, harder and more slowly this time. “Don’t forget what a clean STD test means.”

Castiel groans, clenching his fists. “I—” he stops himself from continuing, mouth snapping shut with a click.

“C’mon, Father, I wanna hear those pretty noises as I make you come,” Dean growls, leaning forward and swiping his tongue along the shell of Castiel’s ear, continuing the attention of his mouth down the man’s neck in small, barely-there presses of lips. He reaches the hollow of Castiel’s neck and trails his tongue down, along the priest’s collarbones, and bites gently. The priest can’t help but to let out quiet gasps of pleasure.

“Dean, I—” his protests are stopped with a rough grind against him, and his hands fly up to grip Dean’s arms tightly. He rocks his hips up to meet the blond’s and he squeezes his eyes shut. He hadn’t even realized he had opened them. “ _Dean_ ,” he moans, elongating the vowels in the man’s name.

Dean suddenly pulls up, straddling Castiel. “Gotta wake up, though, I’m hungry,” he says with a grin before climbing off of the bed (and Cas). Castiel gives Dean a scandalized look.

“Dean!” he hisses. “You can’t just—why did you— _get back here_ ,” he growls, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He had forgotten they were tangled around his legs and he falls on the floor in a graceless lump. Dean can’t help but let out a bark of laughter and he helps the priest up, soothing the wrinkled brow with a gentle kiss, following it up with a chaste press of his lips against the other man’s.

“I intend to finish what I’ve started, babe, but I really am hungry,” he murmurs, pulling Castiel against him. Dean closes his eyes, rests his forehead against Castiel’s, and breathes him in. He wrinkles his nose. “Morning breath,” he grumbles, stepping back and tugging the man into the bathroom. He grabs an unopened toothbrush from the medicine cabinet and hands it to Cas. “Sorry it’s one of those cheap ones, the dentist keeps giving them to me even though I buy _way_ better quality toothbrushes,” he says, haughtily. Castiel just gives him a lopsided grin. He chooses to bury the shame and ignore it. He resolves to not let himself feel it while with Dean. Dean deserves at least that much. He bumps his hip against the man’s teasingly, taking the toothbrush and making use of it. Once finished, Dean kisses Castiel’s shoulder from behind. He frowns, suddenly. “Damn,” he growls. “Now I can’t have orange juice.”

The priest rolls his eyes, walking back into the bedroom. He looks at his clothes on the floor, dismayed, and jumps, startled, when Dean hands him a pair of fresh boxers and sweatpants. The blond gives Castiel a shy smile, as if he’s expecting to be rejected. Castiel feels a warmth bloom somewhere in his stomach, or chest, or somewhere in the heart region, and it spreads to his face. He looks away, demure. He’s not sure when he became a blushing, virginal thing, but by Dean’s lascivious grin he assumes it’s not a bad thing.

“You’re cute when you’re all shy,” Dean points out, voice affectionate, confirming Castiel’s assessment. They dress, and Dean leaves the room with a bounce in his step. “C’mon Cas, gonna make you the best damn breakfast you’ve ever had!” and he leads the way to the kitchen.

Castiel has to admit, breakfast done and eaten, that it _was_ the ‘best damn breakfast’ he had ever had (complete with air quotes, which gets him an incredulous snort and an exasperated roll of pretty green eyes).

The priest lingers in his seat, now self-conscious and unsure. “I should…” he jerks his head, pointing in the general direction of the doorway, somewhere behind him, with his thumb. He’s not ready for Dean’s frown and refusal to meet his eyes.

“You could—” Dean cuts himself off, shaking his head. “You, yeah, you probably need to… uh, priest things,” he stands, accidentally bumping his knee against the table, hissing with pain. Castiel can’t help but laugh quietly.

“I have cats,” Castiel hurries. Dean stares.

“I didn’t… peg you for a cat person…”

“Is that a problem…?”

“I’m allergic,” Dean pouts.

“I have Zyrtec,” the priest responds with a shrug. “Or we can just… come here,” he finishes quietly.

“Better get used to it, I guess, if I’m ever gonna move in,” he says with a wink. Castiel looks shell-shocked and he shifts nervously.

“Ah, Dean, I…”

“Fuck,” Dean groans. “Pretend I—I mean, I know you’re a priest, it was just… uhh, I…” he scrambles for something to say. “I had a dream last night!” his voice sounds a bit desperate. “So, um, must have been… confused, or, or… you know,” he closes his eyes, unable to shove the horror down and appear nonchalant. Castiel doesn’t respond for a moment, then nods jerkily.

“I can’t be… it can’t be emotional,” he says, voice quiet. “I mean, I…” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I made a promise to the Church, to myself, to God…”

Dean makes a face. “Not doing a very good job keeping that promise, huh Cas?”

Castiel inhales sharply, and he takes a step back. The sharp sting of pain and being drenched with shame again takes his breath away for a moment. “You’re—you’re right, thanks for… for reminding me,” he takes another step back. “We should… don’t come Sunday,” he pleads.

“No! No, Cas, I can behave,” Dean is desperate, he rushes forward to grab Cas’s arm, and the priest is stiff, biting his lip. He feels nauseous. “Fuck, I didn’t mean—I was just… don’t, I’m sorry, just…”

Why does Castiel feel like _crying_? Maybe because he is such a disappointment. To the Church, to God, to his parents if they ever found out his dirty little secret. To Dean, now, apparently. The shame physically hurts. He rushes out the front door, shutting it behind him and leaning against it. He tries to catch his breath before he remembers that he’s wearing nothing but Dean’s pajama pants. And that Dean had driven him here. _Fuck_. He takes a deep, fortifying breath and steps back to open the door and re-enter, when it swings inward. Dean is staring at him, and the… Cas can’t really call it heartbroken, because he really doesn’t think Dean feels that way about _him_. He knows he’s just a passing interest, and he doesn’t mind. Not really. But when Dean says… says things like that, it hurts on multiple levels.

“You’re, uh…”

“Still wearing your clothes.”

“And I drove you.”

“I can get a cab,” Castiel says, biting his lip and stepping back into the apartment.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dean groans. “I can swallow my pride and ignore the rejection for long enough to take you home. Or back to the church. Whichever.”

Castiel nods, walking back to the man’s room stiffly. And the morning had started off so _well_. He sighs, changes, re-emerges from the room. His gaze flicks up to Dean’s, and the electricity he feels from making eye contact causes him to look back down again. Dean pads over to Castiel, close but not touching. He reaches out, catches himself, and pulls his arm back. Castiel still notices the aborted gesture. “I’m… I really am sorry, I didn’t—I can keep my, uh, feelings to myself. Since it makes you uncomfortable.”

The priest shakes his head, confused by what Dean’s saying. He’s not stupid, he _knows_ what’s going on, he’s dealt with the playboy, fuck-and-drop thing before. “You don’t have to pretend just to get me into bed,” he says, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“I’m not—” Dean stops, and Castiel ignores the man’s hurt look. The priest _needs_ to believe it’s not real, he can’t handle it if it’s real. Dean seems to understand, and he nods. “Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat. “But I… I don’t want this to stop,” he mumbles.

Castiel clenches his fists and his jaw, looking away.

“ _Please_ ,” Dean tries, and his breathless plea is what breaks Castiel down. How could he ever deny the man anything when he looks so distressed? How could he ever deny him _anything_ , desperate look or not?

“Yeah, okay,” Castiel responds quietly, trying to sound indifferent. It doesn’t quite work. The blond’s head snaps up, and Dean’s hopeful look is _also_ painful.

“Really?”

Castiel takes a deep breath and jerks his head, a small nod. “Still, don’t… don’t come Sunday. I can’t—I won’t be able to focus, and I’ll…” he inhales sharply. “I’ll lose my nerve.”

“I don’t want you if you don’t want me.”

Castiel jerks his gaze to meet Dean’s, and he feels _angry_. “It’s not about you!” he hisses. “Don’t be so conceited, I’m a _priest_ , I can’t just—how can you, after I agree… _say_ things like that?” he wraps his arms around himself and Dean covers his face with his hands mortified.

“I’m—just—you have to know what I mean, I don’t… I can’t feel like I’m forcing you when we’re together.”

Castiel sighs, chewing his lip anxiously. “Yeah, I… I get it. I shouldn’t be… expecting you to be so accommodating, dealing with my emotional hang-ups about being a gay priest.”

The sunny grin Castiel receives makes his heart stutter. “Feelin’ _emotional_ about me, gay-priest-Cas?”

The priest scowls, turns away. “Don’t push your luck,” he grunts, stepping to the door and clumsily putting his shoes back on.

Dean grabs his keys and pats Castiel on the head, pulling the door open. He ignores the irritated glare. “Yeah yeah, no problem. I’ll pick you up after service Sunday, then?”

Castiel steps outside, nodding. “I’ll… not from church, I’ll text you my address.” Dean responds with a nod.

The walk to Dean’s car is silent, tense, uncomfortable. The music is turned up once they’re in, pulling out of the parking lot. Halfway to the church Dean sighs, turning the music down. “Thanks, Cas. I… actually really like you. You don’t have to believe me or anything, but it’s... you’re nice,” he mumbles the last bit.

Castiel cocks a brow, side-eyeing the man. He doesn’t respond until they pull into the church and has his hand on the door. He can’t ignore the dejected pout. “Even though you’ve been an insufferable _ass_ today,” the man starts. His glare stops Dean’s amused eye-waggle swiftly. “Even though you’ve been an _insufferable ass_ today… I still…” he closes his eyes. “You still… you make me wonder what it’d be like if I wasn’t a Catholic priest.”

Dean shifts in his seat, silent. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I think about it sometimes,” Castiel confesses. “But, it’s not going to happen. It _can’t_ happen, Dean. Don’t… don’t get your hopes up.”

Dean nods, looking out the window to his left. “Yeah, I’ll. I’ll try to remember that.”

The priest nods, stilted. Another beat of silence passes. “Yes. Do that,” and then the door is swinging open, and he steps away. The shut of the door and the sound of Castiel’s car starting has Dean leaning back against his seat, sighing.

“You fucking idiot,” he grumbles to himself, shaking his head. “He’s a _priest_. It’s just a schoolboy crush.” Dean’s half-hearted attempt to convince himself is unsuccessful. “You’ve only known him for a few days, Dean,” he growls, frustrated. He exhales slowly. “It’s not love. Just infatuation. You’ll get over it,” he whispers, pulling out of the parking.

It’s not love. Dean will have to walk away before it becomes that. He frowns, not fooling himself. It’s _already_ heading that way. Too much, too quickly, but Dean will be damned if he breaks away. He can compartmentalize. He can suppress emotions. He _has to_. He has to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, I'm updating. What a change. :')
> 
> I'm alive. Sort of. This is 100% completely unedited so like, point out where I fucked up and things don't make sense. For those that have stuck with it - I'm very, very thankful (and flattered). I hope you like it.

Sunday came, and the tension mounted in Castiel as he went through the motions of Mass, of taking confession. His results had come back negative for everything, of course. The shame from his overnight with Dean had diminished, and the hurt he felt from the spat they had before he made his way home faded. He knew he was being silly. He knew he was in denial. He knew he was playing with fire. But it was like an addiction. Not to the sex, or the affection, but to _Dean_ , and how did he become addicted so _quickly_? His head spun when he thought about it, so he pushed the thoughts aside whenever they came up. Like intrusive thoughts, they came frequently, but Castiel was well-versed in denying his reality and emotions. Breaking his vows and taking comfort with Dean was one thing, but regretting joining the Priesthood was another thing, one that he had to deny, that _couldn’t_ be true, or his life would crumble around him, and he couldn’t let that happen. He shook his head, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. Intrusive thoughts. _Again_. His parishioners had filed out, mostly, one or two behind praying silently in the pews. It wouldn’t be abnormal for him to leave for a while, the sanctuary remaining open. The valuables were locked away, of course, and who would steal a crucifix? He stood by the small fonts of holy water mounted on the sides of the wall near the doors, having replaced and blessed the water multiple times already. His breath stuttered when he heard the familiar rumble.

            He was nervous as he walked through the doors of the apartment, glancing at Dean as the man followed him. Dean was responding to Castiel’s awkwardness with a similar amount of awkwardness, and the priest couldn’t have that. He turned to face the man abruptly, causing Dean to bump into him. He wrapped his arms around the blond, burying his face in the other’s neck. The man startled, blinking down at the priest before wrapping his arms around him, pressing him to his chest.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Dean, for how I reacted before. I just—you make me feel things, and I _can’t_ feel those things. Do you understand?”

Dean was silent, shifting his weight and rubbing a hand down Castiel’s back. “Kind of. We both have to deny it, right? So we’ll both get our hearts broken,” he ended his sentence with a humorless laugh.

“Yeah,” the priest responded.

“So…”

Castiel stepped back suddenly, looking up at Dean. “I want—I’ve been thinking about this, and I… can we do it multiple times?”

Dean raised an eyebrow, smirk slowly appearing on his face. “’ _Do it’_ , Father? Suddenly a teenager, again?”

“Stay the night. The bed… fuck, this is horrible,” Castiel groaned, tilting his head back and gripping his hair in distress. “It feels empty without you, I feel like such an idiot for saying that. Ignore me.”

Dean laughed, pulling Castiel back against him. “No way, baby,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the priest’s forehead, then his lips, tenderly. Castiel moved his lips against Dean’s, the kiss lazy for a few minutes before Dean licked his way inside the priest’s mouth. “Can’t ignore it, when I feel the same,” he grinned, words spoken against the brunet’s lips. “Fucking cheesy, yeah, never mind, we’ll both ignore that was ever said.”

Castiel laughed, burying his face in Dean’s neck again, causing the blond to raise an eyebrow. “So cheerful, suddenly,” he sounded surprised.

“I’ve made a pact with myself to only let the shame hit me after we’ve been parted for more than an hour, and only during the day,” Castiel responded sourly. “For now, at least, until it becomes too much to hold back.”

More silence, of course, because Dean didn’t want Castiel to feel shame although he knew, of course, that the priest would. Nothing would change that, so he decided to ignore his disgruntlement, running a hand through Castiel’s hair. “Cuddles and food first? Then I can bend you over the table and fuck you dry like the kinky little slut you are.”

The brunet groaned, rocking his hips against Dean’s. “Yes,” he said breathlessly, panting against the blond’s neck.

“Fuck, baby, you make me so hard,” Dean groaned, gripping the priest’s hips roughly as he returned the grind. “Maybe we’ll skip the lunch…”

Castiel suddenly pulled back, stumbling a bit in his haste, eyes wide. Dean looked concerned. “No!” Castiel said, loudly. “I-I mean,” he stuttered, shaking his head. “You left me… you, ah, this is… payback. For that morning.”

Dean was confused for a moment before he snorted, grinning widely. “Of course. You gonna make me the best lunch I’ve ever had, then?”

“No,” he responded, glancing toward the kitchen. “You will cook.”

“So bossy,” Dean said saucily, trailing a fingertip down the priest’s arm as he passed him into the kitchen. “I like this side of you. One day I’ll have to let you tie me down and fuck _me_ into the mattress.” He glanced back at the man just in time to catch the look of lust that had taken over Castiel’s face before it fluttered away with a shy blush. “Hmm, looks like you agree with me…”

The priest chose not to respond, following Dean into the kitchen.

xoxo

The lunch didn’t end up being the best either had ever had, but it tasted good nonetheless. They didn’t really get much of a chance to taste it, anyway, as their minds were somewhere else entirely. Both Castiel and Dean rushed through lunch, stumbling together through the doors to the bedroom as soon as they were finished. Dean pressed the priest down into the mattress, Castiel spreading his legs and letting out a wanton moan.

“Thought you were—” He let out a sharp gasp as Dean bit his shoulder, wrapping the man’s legs around his hips as he grinded against him. “—thought you were going to f-fuck me over the table,” he finished, stuttering. Dean smirked, and Castiel could feel it pressed against his skin.

“Mm, we can get to that later,” he murmured. “This time… the bed.”

Castiel nodded, eyes closed tight as Dean wrapped an arm around the other man, lifting him a bit and moving him to the center of the bed as he climbed atop the priest. Castiel bit his lower lip, looking shyly up at Dean through his lashes. “We’re—you’re going to… do it how I asked?” he questioned, suddenly unsure.

Dean nodded slowly. “Unless you’ve changed your mind…?”

Castiel responded with a shake of his head, fingers gripping the bedsheets. “I’m… I’d like to… yeah,” he trailed off, looking to the side.

“No condom?” Dean clarified, waiting for Castiel’s not. “No lube?” Castiel nodded again, slower this time, as if he was afraid Dean would change his own mind. “All right,” Dean affirmed. “Just… I need you to tell me if it’s too much, all right?” he said softly.

Castiel nodded again, eyes closing. “Yes, Dean. I will tell you.”

“Good.”

They were both silent and unmoving for a few tense moments before Dean climbed off of Castiel, working to remove their clothes as swiftly as he could.

x

They were naked, Castiel panting with two of Dean’s fingers inside, slick with nothing but saliva. Castiel had taken his time to lick around each digit, sucking lightly, teasingly—he was clearly talented with his tongue. Dean was two knuckles in before curling them, fighting to find—

“Ah!” the priest cried out, eyes screwing shut. He bit his lip to prevent more sounds from pouring out, gripping at the sheets and twisting. Dean smirked, sliding his fingertips gently against it before beginning the slow in-and-out motion he had been doing before. He ignored Castiel’s muffled curse and the glare he got from the priest was… well, adorable.

“Come on Father, I know you can be more patient than that,” the blond said with a grin. Castiel just groaned, trying to press against those fingers, panting.

“Don’t—no, Dean, _please_.”

“Aww, but I’m having fun!”

“Hurry the hell up,” Castiel growled.

“Yes sir,” Dean said, finally sliding his fingers out and moving to kneel above Castiel’s head. “Now get that cock wet for your ass.”

The priest licked his lips, eyes half-lidded with lust as he took Dean’s member into his mouth, inch by inch. The blond had been shocked to find out how _good_ Castiel was at this. It was quite clear that he had done it before. He sucked and bobbed his head, tongue swirling around the head and pressing against the underside as Dean’s cock moved in and out of his mouth. The man moved his fingers into the priest’s hair, tugging lightly, eliciting a moan from Castiel.

“Yeah, like that,” Dean breathed, watching intently. He pressed further, testing how the priest wanted to do this. The pleased sound he got in return told him all he needed to know. He started thrusting shallowly in and out of Castiel’s mouth, who had relaxed his jaw and closed his eyes. The priest was enjoying the feeling of having his mouth used, but it was just a precursor for what was to come—and right now, the man was _very_ impatient. He pulled his head back, gasping for air, and he made a gesture toward Dean’s cock—shiny with spit.

“Do it now,” Castiel hissed.

The response he got was Dean trailing his fingers over Castiel’s lips, and then the blond was moving down the priest’s body, shifting their bodies so that the tip of his cock was pressing up against the man’s entrance. “Ready?” Dean asked, concern bleeding into his voice.

“For fuck’s sake, Dean, I was ready when we started,” he grumped, moving his hips up to give Dean better leverage. The blond bit his lower lip as he held Castiel’s hips with one hand, using the other to guide his cock inside the priest’s body. The spit helped ease the sting and slick the way for his member, but barely. It was okay for Dean, the tightness and drag of his dick into Castiel’s deepness actually felt damn good. He watched the priest’s face for signs of discomfort, stopping at the small grimace Castiel tried to hide.

“Are you sure we should—”

“Just—please, Dean. You promised.”

The blond exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and continuing the slide until he was bottomed out. He waited—patiently (barely)—for Castiel to adjust. “Let me—let me know when I can move,” he hissed. It was a long moment before the priest shifted against him, body relaxing enough that Dean felt comfortable continuing.

“You can—do it, now…” Dean raised an eyebrow—Castiel was blushing. He responded as he started up a slow, grinding rhythm.

“Shy suddenly? Can’t even say the word fuck? What happened to the dirty priest I was fingering before?”

Dean’s voice was low with arousal, each thrust getting longer and a little harder, leaving the man underneath him writhing with delight. He met the blond’s thrusts with a groan, eyes closing tight.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel whined. “F-fuck me, _fuck me like you mean it_ ,” the priest growled. The other man just swore under his breath and slowly increased the pace and roughness of his movements, fucking into the man underneath him. Castiel was twisting his fingers in the sheets, panting now, sweat forming on his brow.

“Like that?” Dean purred, gripping the priest’s hips tightly. He slid out further, and then back in sharply with a hiss. “You feel so tight, damn, so _good_ , Father.”

The hitching of Castiel’s breath just spurred him on—harder, deeper, rougher. He gripped the man’s thighs, pushing his legs up and apart further, and the priest moved to put one of them over Dean’s shoulder.

“So flexible, too,” he gasped, hips stuttering as he watched Castiel’s cock bob with each slap of skin on skin. Dean couldn’t help himself, he reached down to grip it, pumping once, twice, slowly. Castiel cried out, hips bucking, not sure if he should rock up into Dean’s hand or down onto his cock. The heat pooling in Dean’s belly was threatening to spill; he was dangerously close, fingers tight on the priest’s thighs. There would be bruises later, and the blond felt primitively proud of that. The tightening of the priest’s walls on Dean’s dick had the man gritting his teeth, pushing the priest’s legs apart further, eliciting another cry from his lover. He was still pumping his hand over the man’s cock, working to pull him over the cliff’s edge with him.

“Father,” Dean moaned. “So—oh, fuck, I’m gonna—”

He was cut off by Castiel’s sudden wail and stuttered thrusts; he tightened down on Dean to a point where it was almost painful. The priest’s come splattered against the sheets and he was panting. It didn’t take Dean more than a few more thrusts of his own before he was in _deep_ , cock throbbing inside the man as he came inside Castiel—filling him up with his come. The priest could _feel_ the throbbing, and each wave of come released inside of him, before Dean was sliding out and collapsing next to the man, chest heaving.

Castiel’s breaths matched Dean’s, his heartbeat stuttering in his chest and slowing down, finally, to a normal beat. He turned to face Dean, looking at the man who was spread out next to him, eyes closed, serene smile on his face. Those pretty eyelashes, the freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, the flush from their activities—it was all almost too much. It was too beautiful, and the priest closed his eyes as well. He felt Dean roll over, suddenly, the blond pulling him against his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, voice quiet, gentle.

“How beautiful you are,” Castiel responded with a sigh. Dean painted patterns on the priest’s back with his fingertips, kissing the top of his sweaty, disheveled hair.

“Back at’cha,” the blond said with a smile.

Castiel just shook his head. He didn’t want to argue, he was far too tired for that, and he felt himself start to drift off.

“Woah buddy, no, we gotta clean up first!”

“Just a—” the priest yawned. “Just a nap,” he finished, voice more a sigh than anything else.

“Don’t make me carry you,” the blond threatened. “You know I can.”

“Not ready for a second round yet,” Castiel said, twisting to move off the bed and stand. Dean gave him a confused look.

“Huh?”

“You know,” he said, and waved his hand as if that explained everything. “Carrying me—too arousing, so strong.”

“Much strong, many arousing.”

This time Dean was on the receiving end of a confused, incredulous look. Dean turned the shower on, giving Castiel a crooked grin. “Just a… never mind. Meme reference.”

“Meme…?”

“Just—don’t worry about it. Internet stuff.”

Castiel eyed Dean dubiously, not sure if he was just crazy or telling the truth—or maybe both.

“Get the hell in the shower, Cas,” the blond said, getting an eye-roll in return. They stepped under the spray together, and Dean kissed the back of Castiel’s neck. The priest leaned back against him, feeling the wave of shame attempt to take over, and he pushed back against it. No. Now wasn’t the time. It receded.

“I…” Dean paused, not sure if he should continue. “I… uh, you’re… um… special… to me. So, I wanna say, I—”

“Don’t,” Castiel said with a sigh, twisting to give his lover a sardonic smile, running his hands through the wet, blond locks. “Just enjoy this moment with me.”

Dean nodded, wrapping his arms around Castiel again, tightly, closing his eyes as he pulled the priest against him. Most of the rest of the shower was spent in close proximity, cuddling-while-standing. They moved to the bed, Dean replacing the sheets, and they both climbed underneath them. Castiel slid close, wrapping an arm around Dean, laying his head down on his chest and closing his eyes. They slid into an easy sleep, content, and exhausted. The consequences would have to be dealt with, but not now. It could wait, and Castiel would handle it later, after Dean was long gone from his house, his sheets were cold, and the familiar feeling of guilt settled over him again.

But for now, Castiel wanted to be happy, pretend that he and Dean could be together like lovers. So he did, and slept deeply.

**Author's Note:**

> 2 chaptered this time, haven't written the second chapter but there will be sexy-times. Sorry for the angst. Not sure when I'll get the 2nd chapter up. Last-semester classes have me working hard with all the papers and I'm working on my Castiel-is-a-chicken fic, trying to keep ahead. There will be an eventual happy ending in the series, and I'm thinking of making the next part of the series a multi-chaptered fic that continues the story until the happy ending. Plus additional snapshots added occasionally to the series when I have time. Let me know what you think. :)


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